No contest
by OtterAndTerrier
Summary: Post-RotJ married domestic fluff, barely M rated. Leia comes home to find Han cooking, which is... not exactly what she had in mind. [This fits in whatever universe you want it to fit.]


**A/N:** Han/Leia post-RotJ domestic fluff ficlet that I no longer remember how I came up with, but was definitely inspired by all the amazing Han/Leia post-RotJ domestic fluff fics I've read lately. Thanks a lot to **beks21** on Tumblr who did a great first job as a beta! If you like it please fave and/or comment or I'll be sad (consider yourselves emotionally blackmailed.) (No, there's not going to be a dirty sequel, if you're wondering.) (But you're welcome to pick this up and write it.)

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 **No contest**

'—from the description, that was definitely _not_ a blaster's end on his wife's night table!' Leia was saying. She was perched on a cleared space on the kitchen's countertop, still in her work clothes but with her dangling feet bare. She held a glass of wine between her fingers and was failing at keeping the laughter out of her voice as she filled Han in on what he'd missed while on his latest mission away. He was making dinner and so far succeeding at not getting too distracted and letting it all burn. Leia hadn't been too happy when she'd got home and found him preoccupied with the cooking, and it was taking all of his willpower not to ditch everything and order in later.

'Can you believe he looked almost offended at the idea?' Leia asked now, sipping her wine. 'I told him, "That's not something to worry about! Would you rather she had a lover? It's not cheating, she just misses you. Or at least, part of you".'

'You really know how to put men in their place, sweetheart. What did he say?'

'He gave me a very serious look and said, "Don't take offense, Leia, but I think Han has rubbed off on you".'

Han dipped a piece of bread into the casserole and popped it into his mouth. 'I'll take that as a compliment,' he commented, smirking.

Leia snorted. 'What, you think it's true? You rubbed off on me?'

Lowering the heat of the stove, he stepped in front of her. The countertops were the perfect height for him to cook—and currently, they had the additional advantage of placing Leia at eye level.

'I'd say,' he started, placing his hands on her knees, 'more like I nudged some doors open.' And he parted her legs, stepping between them. Grinning, he started rummaging in the cabinet right above their heads, looking for the right seasoning.

Of course she thought it was nice, coming home and finding him cooking, sitting down and just telling him light-hearted things about her day. He'd been away for nearly a week, though. She'd missed him, and—as amusing and appealing as it was to see him tinkering in the kitchen (which wasn't often, as neither of them excelled in this area), Leia had been looking forwards to a different homecoming.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned to press her mouth on his throat. She actually had to bend her head a little, in her current position. 'So,' she started, 'do you think you'll be done with dinner soon?' She found his pulse point and kissed it. 'Or should I—' _kiss_ '—find me something—' _kiss_ '—for when I miss my husband—' _kiss_ '—too?'

Han finally drew the container he was looking for out of the cabinet and left it on the counter next to her, his eyes, sparkling with amusement, coming down to meet hers.

'Your toys won't keep you warm at night, Your Worship,' he said in a husky voice. He tilted his head to kiss her in a slow but increasingly intense burn. He'd turned down the heat on the food and was turning it up on her, as his hands were once again on her legs, thumbs making warm patterns on her trousers-clad thighs.

Leia threaded her fingers through his hair and her ankles locked behind him, pulling him closer. The perfume of the simmering food had vanished as her senses became full of Han, but she could feel it in his mouth. Now she really was hungry.

'True,' she gasped when they broke apart for breath. 'There's no contest.'

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he moved a centimeter out of reach, smiling deviously. His hands squeezed under her thighs and he lifted her—her hands held onto his shoulders more firmly, and Leia was congratulating herself when—

' _What_ are you doing!' she cried in outrage when he swiftly set her on a chair at the table and went back to the stove, snickering.

'Sorry sweetheart, but if I can't eat you, I can't have you on my counter,' he said, turning on the flame again and adding a sprinkle of seasoning.

'Oh so you can't eat me, now,' Leia grumbled, face flushed, glaring at his turned back while he continued with his preparations. 'Maybe I should look into getting a "toy", after all. It'd be always at my disposal _and_ it won't snore.'

'They don't cook, either,' Han said, pointing out a finger at her.

'Yes, exactly.'

He loaded two dishes and carried them to the table, placing one in front of Leia.

'This does smell delicious,' she admitted.

'Yeah. Didn't think it'd take so kriffin' long,' Han said, scratching his chin as he sat down and frowned at his dish. 'I thought it'd be done when you got here.'

'And I appreciate the thought,' Leia said, reaching out to pat his hand, 'but next time, I'll appreciate it more if you left your culinary experimentations for an occasion that isn't the first time I see you in days, all right?'

'Hey, I didn't want you to think I'd come home just to ravish you! What kind of husband do you think I am?'

Leia grabbed her fork and raised an eyebrow, regarding him with a mix of amusement and fondness before answering.

'Mine.'


End file.
